


(you and i were) fireworks

by joshllyman



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Canon Compliant, Exes to Lovers, Haikyuu!! Manga Spoilers, M/M, Side Akaashi Keiji/Bokuto Koutarou - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-12
Updated: 2021-02-12
Packaged: 2021-03-12 00:08:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,054
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29376150
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/joshllyman/pseuds/joshllyman
Summary: “Three years,” he sighs, taking a sip of the drink in his hand. The ice has long since melted.Bokuto lets out a low whistle. “Since you’ve seen him?”“Yeah. Been a lot longer than that since we were together.”“It’s been six years since you broke up,” provides Akaashi, and his tally is accurate, to no one’s surprise. “My junior year of university, your senior year.”***Kuroo Tetsurou has a great job with the JVA. His best friends are engaged. Most of the time, he's doing great.But tonight he's seeing Daichi for the first time in a long while, and it dredges up memories of what they used to be.
Relationships: Kuroo Tetsurou/Sawamura Daichi
Comments: 14
Kudos: 102
Collections: HQ!! Writers Valentine's Weekend





	(you and i were) fireworks

**Author's Note:**

> for hq writers valentine's weekend event  
> prompts: falling (back) in love/confessions  
> *  
> this fic is heavily inspired by "fourth of july" by fall out boy  
> *  
> huge shout outs to: cat, tawnya, ro, becca, and sam, who listened to me bitch endlessly about this fic until i finally got it done  
> brittany for the beta  
> i appreciate you all more than i can say

“How long has it been?”

Kuroo tears his gaze away and looks up at Bokuto. His friend is wearing a sympathetic smile; Kuroo tries desperately not to resent it. He considers lying, saying he doesn’t know like he hasn’t been counting back the months in his head, but if Bokuto doesn’t call him on it, Akaashi will, and he appears behind Bokuto’s shoulder as if Kuroo’s fleeting thought summoned him.

“Three years,” he sighs, taking a sip of the drink in his hand. The ice has long since melted.

Bokuto lets out a low whistle. “Since you’ve seen him?”

“Yeah. Been a lot longer than that since we were together.”

“It’s been six years since you broke up,” provides Akaashi, and his tally is accurate, to no one’s surprise. “My junior year of university, your senior year.”

“Break up is strong terminology,” Kuroo mumbles into his drink.

“It is accurate for what happened between you,” Akaashi says.

Kuroo frowns. “It really isn’t, since we were barely even speaking at the time—”

“Let’s find something else to talk about,” Bokuto suggests, cutting in loudly. “Have you gotten to talk to Kageyama-kun yet?”

Akaashi and Kuroo spare each other a glance and a secret smile. Bokuto always keeps them from lingering too long on sore subjects, and they’ve come to depend on his intervention.

“Chibi-chan brought him over a bit ago,” Kuroo says, turning his gaze back to Bokuto. “Although they were so busy bickering at each other I’m not sure Kageyama-kun actually heard anything I said to him.”

“What time is it in Italy anyway?” Bokuto questions.

“Italy is eight hours behind Japan,” says Akaashi. “So it’s currently just after one in the afternoon.”

Bokuto wraps an arm around Akaashi’s waist and kisses his cheek. “You’re so smart, Keiji.”

Akaashi’s face reddens. “We’re in public, Koutarou,” he protests, but Kuroo sees the way he clings to his fiance. It’s hard to miss.

“Yeah, but everyone here knows us!” Bokuto laughs, and Akaashi rolls his eyes as Bokuto presses his lips to Akaashi’s cheek once again. 

Kuroo has to look away.

Once, not that long ago, he’d thought he’d be like them, happily engaged to his high school sweetheart. He’d thought they’d take on the world together. Now it’s been three years (and two months and eighteen days) since he even saw the man he used to love.

On cue, a booming laugh makes its way across the room. Kuroo doesn’t need to look to know who it belongs to, but he does anyway. Daichi has Suga clinging to his arm as they both throw their heads back in glee. A shocked looking Asahi stands beside them. Kuroo has the feeling he’s the butt of whatever joke has the other two losing it.

Daichi looks good. Kuroo can’t deny that. Years of firefighter training and work have kept him fit. His thighs and biceps are as strong as ever, and he’s filled out all around, having lost the last of the boyish roundness from his face so all that’s left is a strong jawline.

Kuroo remembers, suddenly, the early morning light illuminating Daichi’s body, the feeling of his stubble beneath Kuroo’s lips. Daichi is always a little hoarse in the morning before his first cup of tea—black, with just a taste of honey. 

Or at least, he used to be.

They used to whisper to each other in the hours before the rest of the world woke up, their hopes and dreams and plans for the future. The apartment they’d share outside of Tokyo. The name of the dog they’d adopt together (they never did settle on anything, he thinks, or if they did he no longer remembers what they decided).

It’s nights like these when Kuroo realizes that it’s going to take a lot longer than six years to get over Sawamura Daichi, assuming it’s a feat he can even accomplish.

When he comes back to himself, both Bokuto and Akaashi are watching him with looks of concern on their faces. Kuroo takes a sip of his drink to cover his frown.

“You don’t have to stay,” says Akaashi quietly. “If it’s too hard.”

“It’s basically your engagement party,” Kuroo answers. “What kind of best man misses his best friend’s engagement party?”

“It’s a reunion party, not our engagement party, because we’re not having an engagement party,” Akaashi insists. When he catches Bokuto’s frown, he sighs heavily. “And if we did have one, it would likely only be our closest friends. Certainly nothing this big. At any rate, we can celebrate any time.”

Kuroo huffs in his direction. “It’s fine,” he says shortly. “He clearly isn’t bothered by my presence, so.”

Bokuto and Akaashi trade a wary look.

“I’m not going to run away from this,” Kuroo determines. He sets his jaw stubbornly. “There’s plenty of other people here for both of us to talk to. There’s no reason this should be hard.”

After a moment, Bokuto reaches over and sets his hand on Kuroo’s forearm. “You’ll tell us if you need to go, right?” There’s uncertainty written all over his face, and Kuroo wishes he could reach over and wipe it away. “If you need to change your mind, it’s totally cool.”

Bokuto is frustratingly well-intentioned at all times. Kuroo has always loved him for it.

“Thanks,” he answers, and he finally empties his glass. He sets it down with a quiet thunk. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

Bokuto looks satisfied, and when Ushijima, who’s home from Poland on a visit, approaches their end of the bar, he draws him into conversation about the next time they’ll have a chance to play together. Akaashi studies Kuroo a moment longer.

“If I have to go tell Kenma you’re moping, he’ll be upset you interrupted his stream,” Akaashi observes, adjusting his glasses. “And from the looks of it, he’s finally gotten Hinata-kun to set his phone down and join him.”

“I’m not moping,” Kuroo protests. Bokuto turns long enough to press a drink into his hand, something tall and frozen and electric blue. “See? Who could mope while drinking...whatever this is.”

Akaashi offers him a small smile and a hand on the shoulder. “If you need me, come find me, and we can leave. I would gladly disappoint everyone here for your sake, Kuroo-san.”

Kuroo’s heart clenches. He knows he’s a pain in Akaashi’s ass on a regular basis, but it’s nice to know he has his back despite that. “Thanks, Akaashi.”

Akaashi squeezes his fingers, just a little too tight. Kuroo winces. “Now quit being miserable and mingle.”

“You got it, boss.”

Akaashi smiles once more before he disappears into the crowd. Kuroo turns, his drink still in hand, to scan the bar. Yaku’s just arrived with his new boyfriend, the one he can’t stop gushing about in the Nekoma group chat. Kuroo searches his brain for his name—he knows he’s a volleyball player, too, played for a team in the Miyagi area in high school, he’s playing now for the...Elephants?

“Kindaichi,” he says to himself, turning back to the bar, and the name and the thought of where he used to play bring unwelcome memories swarming back to his head. He should get up, he thinks to himself. He should go mingle like Akaashi told him to, go introduce himself, say hello to Yaku, make an appearance on Kenma’s stream, anything. He should not continue to sit here and...he’s not moping.

He takes a long sip of his drink, his fingers drumming on the bar as he tries to force himself to move off the stool. Literally any option he can think of would be better than just continuing to sit here, and yet his limbs won’t cooperate. He’s pulling his phone out of his pocket, about to request that Akaashi physically drag him into the crowd, when a voice speaks warm and soft into his ear.

“Fancy seeing you here.”

All of the air evacuates from Kuroo’s lungs. He’d know that voice anywhere, and now it’s right here, presumably attached to the one person he’d prefer to avoid tonight. It takes a long moment to gather himself enough to turn around.

“Sawamura.” He still doesn’t quite face Daichi, almost directing the greeting over his shoulder. “Could say the same for you.”

Daichi laughs, not nearly as loud as the one that had stopped Kuroo in his tracks earlier, but still enough to send a sharp pang through his heart. “Between Hinata and Bokuto, I’d never catch a break if I missed it.”

“I know the feeling,” Kuroo says.

Daichi seems to hover a moment just behind Kuroo before taking the empty stool beside him. Kuroo tries to steel himself for a long and awkward few minutes of stilted small talk before Daichi moves on.

“How’s work?” Daichi asks, running his finger through the condensation on his glass.

Kuroo considers retorting that he should know, but he wouldn’t. Kuroo has very carefully avoided every V. League game in or around Miyagi for a long time now. “Same old, same old,” he says instead. “You?”

“Ah, you know,” Daichi answers with a shrug. “Fires always need putting out.”

Leave it to Daichi to make saving lives for a living sound mundane. “Right,” Kuroo manages.

He and Daichi lift their glasses at the same time and take a drink in unison. Daichi winces.

“Suga ordered this for me,” he says, setting his glass down. “Think he must have asked for a double or something.”

When Daichi looks up, Kuroo follows his gaze. Suga has commandeered the phone that Kageyama is facetiming on. There may or may not be tears in his eyes; Kuroo can’t tell from here.

Idly, he wonders if Daichi and Suga are together. He’d thought they were an item, back when he had first met them both. It was the only thing that kept Kuroo from kissing Daichi at the end of that first training camp. He still hadn’t been sure, hadn’t found the courage to ask by the time Nationals came around, but Daichi had sought him out after their loss to Kamomedai, tears in his stoic eyes that he said he couldn’t shed in front of anyone else. Kuroo hadn’t been able to help himself—he’d taken Daichi’s face in his hands and pressed his lips to Daichi’s. He had half expected Daichi to push him away, for his face to screw up in disgust when Kuroo pulled away with an apology already forming on his lips. He certainly hadn’t expected Daichi to look back at him in wonder, tears still in his eyes but a smile on his mouth, and to pull him back in for a second kiss, and then a third, and then—anyway. Daichi and Suga weren’t together then, obviously, but they definitely could be now. Kuroo almost asks—and then he stops himself. It isn’t his business who Daichi is or isn’t dating.

“You always let Suga order your drinks for you?” he asks instead, hoping his tone comes across as light.

Daichi chuckles, so. Mission accomplished. “No, he insisted. I wasn’t gonna drink at all tonight.”

Kuroo looks his direction and meets his gaze for half a moment. It’s half a moment longer than they’ve locked eyes in a long, long time, and Kuroo’s throat seizes up. He takes a drink of his blue monstrosity to try and ease the burn. “Bokuto ordered this for me, so I guess we’re in the same boat.”

“I thought about asking,” admits Daichi. “I didn’t think your taste had changed that much since the last time we went out.”

Ah, there it is. The elephant in the room, let loose from his cage to stomp all over everything in his wake. “It’s been a long fucking time since we went out, Sawamura,” he bites out.

Daichi looks at him with a deep frown. “Don’t fucking do that.”

“Do what?”

“Use my family name like—like I meant nothing to you—”

“You meant everything to me!”

It’s enough that a few people around them stop and stare. Out of the corner of his eye, Kuroo catches sight of Kindaichi gently tugging Yaku away by the elbow.

Kuroo takes a deep breath. “Sorry. I should go.”

He’s out of his seat and halfway out the door—Bokuto’s eyes are on him, Akaashi’s too, and he can’t take their pity right now, their sympathy—when a hand on his shoulder stops him.

“Tetsurou,” says Daichi, quiet, urgent. “I’m sorry. Please don’t go.”

Kuroo takes a moment to will away the tears threatening to spill from his eyes before he turns back.

“Fine,” he concedes, because he’s tired, anyway, and he’s always been too weak to tell Daichi no.

Daichi lets go of his shoulder belatedly. They go back over to the bar. Yaku may or may not growl as they pass, which makes Kuroo laugh to himself (he’s the worst, but also he has Kuroo’s back no matter what, and that’s a good quality in a friend). Daichi steps a little closer to Kuroo in trying to steer clear of him.

“Believe it or not, his bite’s worse than his bark,” says Kuroo as he takes his seat again.

“I believe it,” Daichi says, looking warily over his shoulder.

Kuroo takes a deep breath. “So are we talking about it, then?”

Daichi looks at him again, his gaze steady. Every time their eyes meet, it hurts a little less—or a little more. Maybe he’s just becoming numb to the pain.

“If you’re comfortable talking about it,” Daichi says. “I’d like—I mean. We were friends once, Tetsurou.”

Kuroo bites his lip. “Yeah. I remember.”

“I just think—maybe if we get some closure, we can get back to that point.”

“Closure,” Kuroo repeats, the word bitter on his tongue. “I think that’s one of those things easier said than done.”

“Probably. But we can give it a try. If you want. It’s just…” Daichi grips his drink, and Kuroo can tell he’s gripping too hard, can see the whites of his knuckles. “I miss you, Tetsurou.”

Kuroo is left breathless once again. Damn Daichi and his ability to take him by surprise just by being brutally honest.

“I miss you, too,” Kuroo admits, just barely above a whisper. “And...I’m sorry. For what I did to us.”

Daichi shakes his head. “It wasn’t just you. When you got hurt...I got scared. I shouldn’t have pulled away.”

“We were both scared, Daichi,” Kuroo says. “I mean, all I’d ever wanted to do was play volleyball, and suddenly I couldn’t anymore. Of course I was scared.”

“I know,” says Daichi. He sounds pained. “But—but you needed me, and I wasn’t there for you.”

“You were half the country away.” Kuroo hesitates a moment before setting his hand on top of Daichi’s. Daichi inhales sharply and meets Kuroo’s eyes, and for the first time, Kuroo feels steady as he looks back. “I put an unfair amount of pressure on you.”

Daichi furrows his brow. “Still, I should have—taken a break or something, come to be with you—”

“Tell me you’re not still beating yourself up for that after all this time,” chides Kuroo, and when Daichi fixes his gaze on the bar, he sighs. “I told you not to come. You’d have lost your place in your program. I...I regret what happened to us, but I don’t regret telling you to stay home.”

Daichi swallows, hard enough that Kuroo catches the motion of his throat bobbing. “I wish...the timing had been different.”

Kuroo sighs. “I was never angry at you, you know,” he says softly. “I think at the end it probably seemed that way, but…I pulled away because I was angry with myself for how I’d handled everything. I missed you and I didn’t know how to tell you without making you feel guilty, so I just...stopped taking your calls.”

It occurs to him that he’s still touching Daichi’s hand. In fact, Daichi is slowly running his thumb over Kuroo’s knuckles. He stares down at where they’re connected, and Daichi lets the silence stretch out between them, a balm for their aching wounds.

“Seems silly that we waited all this time to have this conversation,” he says after a bit.

“It took me a long time to see what I’d done wrong,” admits Kuroo. “And then I thought it was too late to salvage anything, so I just avoided you instead.”

Daichi exhales softly, slowly. His gaze still pins Kuroo to his seat, even after all these years. “Do you still think it’s too late?”

Kuroo looks at their joined hands again. “I don’t know,” he confesses.

With their free hands, they both reach for their drinks. It should hurt, this show of synchronization after their years of separation, but it doesn’t, not as much as Kuroo expects.

“You said about the timing,” he begins. He purses his lips a moment. “Do you think if my injury had happened after you graduated, we would still be together?”

Daichi takes a deep breath. “I think if your injury had happened after I graduated, the gods themselves would have had to pull me away from your side.”

Is it too late? Kuroo asks himself. Is it possible Daichi never got over him, either?

“Look, maybe I'm reaching.” Kuroo clings to Daichi’s hand and prays his words won’t entice him to let go. “But if I read between the lines of what you’re saying, it sounds like…”

He can’t bring himself to complete his sentence. The words stick in his throat. Daichi waits, but when Kuroo covers by taking another drink, he speaks again.

“Do you ever wonder if we still have the same spark?” he questions, his voice pitched lower than before. “Some people lose it, you know.”

Kuroo trembles. Daichi surely feels it where they’re connected. “We wouldn’t have,” he says, more confidently than he feels. “Not us. We were...we had a really good thing, before it all went to hell.”

Daichi hums in agreement. “We really did, didn’t we?”

Kuroo is staring at Daichi’s lips, and he knows he is, and surely Daichi must notice, too. “Remember that night in Bokuto’s apartment, when we were visiting him in Osaka?” he asks.

“And you couldn’t keep your hands to yourself all night?” Daichi laughs. “Of course I remember.”

“You couldn’t look Bokuto in the eye the next morning,” Kuroo teases.

“Some of us have shame!” Daichi protests, but he’s still laughing, so Kuroo thinks he’s in the clear.

The way Daichi grips his hand no longer feels comforting the way it did a few moments ago, not desperate like it did at first. Kuroo is very aware of the heat in his palms, the sweat at the back of his neck, each of Daichi’s fingers against his own.

“What do you think?” Kuroo questions. “Do you think we’d have lost our spark?”

Daichi’s gaze flickers down to Kuroo’s mouth, and it’s so obvious, it’s like a neon sign flashing news of his desire across the bar. “I think there’s a way we could find out for sure,” he says.

“Oh,” Kuroo exhales, and he should have known exactly what was coming, but Daichi still managed to knock him on his ass. “Are you...do you think that’s a good idea?”

“Are you seeing anyone?” Daichi asks.

“No. You?”

“No. So it sounds like there’s nothing stopping us.”

Kuroo watches as Daichi carefully flips his hand over and drags his thumb across the inside of Kuroo’s wrist. His breath comes in short, shuddering gasps as Daichi deliberately follows the touch of his thumb with each of his fingers before linking their hands again.

“You remembered,” Kuroo murmurs.

Daichi’s eyes are dark when he meets Kuroo’s gaze. “There are a lot of things I remember,” he answers.

Kuroo shifts on his stool. “Was this your intention all along?” he asks. “Is that really why you wanted to talk to me tonight?”

“No,” Daichi answers right away, blinking hard. “No, of course not. I wanted to fix what I broke.”

Kuroo searches his face and can find only honesty and sincerity in his features. He lets that bit of tension that had quickly coiled release from his gut.

“We were both at fault,” he reminds Daichi.

Daichi inclines his head. “That’s why Suga bought me the double. He was pushing me in your direction. He...he knows more than anyone how unhappy I’ve been.”

Kuroo sighs. “Ever since…?”

“Yeah.” Daichi looks down at their hands again. “I’ve really missed you. I know I said so already—”

“I’ve missed you too,” Kuroo says. “So goddamn much.”

Daichi takes the hand that’s been wrapped around his drink and wraps it instead around Kuroo’s hand, so that he’s holding on to it with both of his own. “Let me show you,” he says, low and urgent, “and I promise I’ll make it good for you.”

“I know you will,” Kuroo breathes. “I trust you.”

Daichi looks desperate, like he might close the ever-shrinking gap between them right here, right now. Kuroo wants to let him, but…

“I’m scared,” he confesses. “I don’t know if I can take it if you walk away again. If we fall apart.”

Daichi leans in. “One night,” he murmurs. “We’ll see if we’re still...well. The way we used to be. If it doesn’t work out, we’ll let it go.”

Kuroo swallows. “And if it does?”

Daichi looks around before lifting his hand to Kuroo’s face. That small gesture is enough to bring tears of relief to Kuroo’s eyes as he leans into the touch.

“We could give ourselves some grace,” suggests Daichi. “Give ourselves a second chance.”

“You really think I deserve one?” Kuroo whispers. “After what I put you through?”

Daichi sets his jaw in a firm line. “I don’t give a fuck about what you think you deserve, Tetsurou,” he says through gritted teeth. “It’s been six goddamn years and I still want you just as much now as I did then, so just…”

He and Kuroo stare each other down. Kuroo waits for Daichi to finish his thought, but he doesn’t, at least not right away. He turns to take a drink, and Kuroo takes one of his own, as well. “Just what?” he prompts.

Daichi sets his glass down and looks at Kuroo with clear eyes. “Let me love you. Please.”

When Kuroo closes his eyes, the tears fall. He can’t stop them any more than he can stop loving Daichi.

“One night, for now,” he agrees, and when he opens his eyes again Daichi is smiling brightly enough to rival Bokuto on his best days. “And we’ll see how it goes.”

The roar of the bar comes rushing back into Kuroo’s ears. He didn’t realize how intently he’d been focusing, or how rowdy the others had gotten since he and Daichi had started talking. Hinata is apparently  _ very _ into whatever game he and Kenma are streaming, and they’ve gathered a small crowd around them that includes Yaku, Kindaichi, and Bokuto. Suga’s over there as well, aiming the Kageyama phone at them. Asahi and Kai are deep in conversation in a quiet corner. Lev, Shibayama, and Sakunami look like they’re up to something, but Kuroo can’t tell what from here. Only Akaashi pays him any mind as he scans the bar, and he gets a raised eyebrow as they make eye contact.

He tries to mouth ‘it’s fine,’ but either Akaashi doesn’t understand, or he’s skeptical (probably the latter), so Kuroo resolves to text him later. He turns back to Daichi.

“You wanna get out of here?” he asks.

“Very badly. I want that very badly.”

They’re still joined at the hand, and anyone who’s looking is gonna see them leave together, but Kuroo can’t bring himself to care. 

They stumble out into the night, the air cold but Kuroo’s cheeks warm. Daichi flags down a taxi and opens the door for him— _ opens the door for him _ , like he’s an old fashioned suitor, like he still feels the need to impress Kuroo after all these years (like Kuroo wasn’t already impressed, isn’t still floored by his very existence—). When they’re seated, Kuroo lists his address off to the driver and turns to look at Daichi. Daichi offers him a tentative smile and lifts his arm up, and Kuroo closes the distance between them, leaning into Daichi’s side. Kuroo hasn’t felt the weight of this arm in years, but it’s familiar and sweet, tenderly draped over his shoulder. Kuroo reaches up to link his fingers with Daichi’s.

“You still use the same conditioner,” Daichi murmurs.

Kuroo turns his face to Daichi’s. “Yeah? Is there something wrong with that?”

“No, no, not at all,” Daichi answers quickly. “I just mean—I remember the scent of it. It’s...it’s nice. Like, when I think about you, it’s like it’s right there again. It’s nice to actually be smelling it and not just imagining it.”

Kuroo blinks, and he’s floored. He knows the feeling, but to think Daichi’s been feeling the same way about him all this time— “Yeah, I—I get it.”

Daichi looks at him, tenderness in his eyes, and touches Kuroo’s cheek with his free hand. Kuroo doesn’t trust himself to reciprocate, not in a place where he can’t touch all of Daichi, so he closes his eyes and leans into Daichi’s hand, lets the thump-thump-thump of his heart fill his ears until it’s all he hears. Daichi pulls him close after a few moments, drops a kiss into his hair. 

“We’re here,” is the next thing Kuroo hears, and he hadn’t realized how long they’d been in the car, how long Daichi had been holding him. He murmurs a quick word of thanks to the driver and slides out after Daichi. They climb the three flights of stairs to his apartment in silence.

When the door shuts behind them, Kuroo half expects Daichi to pin him to the door, or to pin Daichi to the door himself. Instead they stare at each other, a strange, wide chasm in the small space between their bodies. Tentatively, Kuroo reaches for Daichi’s hand and threads their fingers together. A small, slow smile grows over Daichi’s face.

“Hey,” he murmurs.

“Hey,” Kuroo agrees, unable to help meeting Daichi’s grin. “I’m glad you’re here.”

“I’m glad I’m here, too,” Daichi answers. 

Once they’ve toed off their shoes, Kuroo leads Daichi through the apartment and into his bedroom. The silence has never felt so loud in this space, never so imposing. Normally Kuroo would be running his mouth trying to fill it, but his tongue is stuck to the roof of his mouth, and he can’t think of a single thing to do to get it unstuck.

His bedroom isn’t the cleanest it’s ever been, but Daichi’s seen his space worse than this, so. Kuroo turns to him and swallows hard and meets his gaze.

“You’re still sure, right?” he says, and it’s meant to come out louder but he doesn’t get much past a whisper. 

Daichi nods. “I’m not backing down from this if you’re not.”

“I’m not backing down from this.” He takes a deep breath. “Can I make a confession?”

“Anything,” Daichi answers.

Kuroo looks at Daichi for a long moment. He’s never been in  _ this _ bedroom, but he’s been in Kuroo’s bed, and the sight of him illuminated by the little lamp that sits on the bedside table, jacket still on, looking back at Kuroo, is enough to stir all the memories of nights they’ve spent together in his head. 

“I...I never got over you,” Kuroo says softly. “I tried, and I wanted to be friends, I really did, but I couldn’t stop thinking about how much I’d fucked up and I thought. I thought that it would be easier if I just pulled away entirely. That’s why I disappeared. I’m sorry.”

“Tetsurou.” Daichi shakes his head. “At what point tonight did I give off the impression that I ever got over you?”

Kuroo huffs a nervous laugh. “I’m just putting it all out there, you know? You deserve to have the whole truth, and that’s it. I’ve dated a few people but no one...no one was you, so. It never worked out.”

Daichi rolls his shoulders and scratches the back of his head. “I dated a few people, disastrously. I tried to pretend I didn’t still want you, especially after you disappeared, but, uh. Suga finally knocked some sense into me.”

“He’s good at that.”

“He is.” Daichi laughs, the corner of his mouth turning up in a way that makes Kuroo want to kiss it. “What I’m saying is, I never got over you, either.”

“Oh.”

Kuroo licks his lips. He doesn’t think there’s anything left to say, but he can’t seem to bring himself to bridge the gap between them. He hesitates, his fingers caught in the hem of his shirt.

Daichi steps up and leans in, slow and steady. He stops just short of Kuroo’s face, pressing his forehead to Kuroo’s. He cups Kuroo’s cheek, his fingers curling tenderly around Kuroo’s jaw. “What do you want tonight?” he murmurs, his gaze falling to Kuroo’s lips before trailing back up his face. “I’ll give you anything.”

Kuroo’s heart pounds in his chest. “I just want you, Daichi,” he admits. “However you’ll give yourself to me.”

“Tetsurou,” Daichi says. He wraps his free hand around Kuroo’s waist, tugging him close. “You already have me.”

When their lips meet, Kuroo forgets how to breathe. All the desperation he’s held back all night surges forward, and he clings to Daichi, his hands grasping at Daichi’s sweater and holding him tight. Daichi kisses him hard enough to bruise, to make sure there’s no way either of them could possibly forget. Kuroo’s knees feel weak.

“Daichi,” he gasps. 

“I’ve got you,” Daichi answers. “I’m not letting go, Tetsu.”

Kuroo blinks, stunned for half a second, before diving back in and taking Daichi’s mouth again. He fumbles at Daichi’s jacket, tossing it impatiently to the floor before going for the hem of his shirt. He doesn’t succeed in getting the shirt off, but he does make contact with the warm skin of Daichi’s torso, and it causes him to moan, an aborted noise in the back of his throat.

Daichi groans his name, pushing him down into the bed and yanking off his own shirt before following Kuroo down. Kuroo gets his hands on Daichi’s chest again. The muscles of his abdomen ripple beneath Kuroo’s touch. He’s just as built as he’s ever been; he still makes Kuroo want to run his tongue all over his stomach, between every divet and crevice. He thinks absently about his own workouts, when he can even get them in, and wonders if Daichi will still like what he sees when he gets his own shirt off—

“Stop thinking, Tetsurou,” Daichi breathes in his ear. He nips at Kuroo’s earlobe, and Kuroo gasps. “I can literally hear your wheels turning.”

“You’re really fucking hot,” Kuroo mumbles, laying a palm flat against Daichi’s chest. “Like, unfairly hot. I know you’re a firefighter or whatever but fuck, save some muscle for the rest of us.”

Daichi chuckles and lets his lips fall to Kuroo’s neck. He sucks at a spot that makes Kuroo’s vision blur for a moment before speaking again. “You scout volleyball players for a living, there’s no way I’m the most built guy you know.”

“Sexy  _ and _ humble,” Kuroo says, reaching up to run his fingers through Daichi’s hair. He grabs a handful at the back of Daichi’s head. “Just how I like my men.” 

He tugs Daichi down for another kiss, slipping his tongue past Daichi’s lips. Daichi goes pliant, allowing Kuroo to take control. Kuroo uses this to flip them so Daichi’s on his back, and he works his way down to Daichi’s chest, making pit stops at his neck and throat to kiss him in the spots he remembers are sensitive. He takes one of Daichi’s nipples into his mouth, swirling his tongue over it as Daichi moans. After a moment, he switches to the other, sucking until they’re both hardened and glistening with spit. He sits up and uses his fingers to tug on them both. 

“Devious as ever,” Daichi pants, but there’s a grin on his face and Kuroo can feel the beginnings of his erection pressing into his thigh.

“You didn’t expect me to change, did you?” Kuroo murmurs. He hesitates a second before tugging his own shirt off. Daichi leans up on one elbow.

“These are new,” he observes, running his fingers over the barbell that pierces Kuroo’s left nipple. 

“Ah, yeah.” Kuroo grins. “Bokuto talked me into it after I graduated.”

Daichi’s fingers fall to his side, tracing over the panther that runs along Kuroo’s side. “This isn’t, though,” he murmurs, and the way he touches the tattoo feels reverent. “Always liked this, you know.”

“I remember,” Kuroo says, twisting so Daichi can see it better. He’s broken out into goosebumps. “If I recall correctly, right after I got it and it healed, you gave me several handjobs in a row while you admired it with your mouth.”

“I’m pretty sure you cried.”

“Now see, that part I don’t remember.”

Daichi laughs and tugs Kuroo down by the wrist. “I remember, because it was the first time you told me you loved me.”

Kuroo swallows. “Yeah. It was.”

Daichi gazes at him for another moment, eyes heavy with lust or love or both, before kissing Kuroo again. His tongue tangles with Kuroo’s, hot and slick, and he nips at Kuroo’s bottom lip every few moments. Their movements have slowed now, less desperate and more controlled. Daichi rolls his hips deliberately up into Kuroo and their cocks grind together, causing Kuroo to hiss with pleasure. Kuroo’s still on top, but he’s under no illusion that he’s in control anymore. He doesn’t mind ceding the upper hand to Daichi, though—he knows Daichi will take care of him, with the same certainty that he knows his own name.

One of Daichi’s hands slips into Kuroo’s jeans and he palms Kuroo’s ass, squeezing the muscle as Kuroo gasps and drops his head to Daichi’s shoulder. Daichi hums his approval. 

“You still keep your lube in the same place?” he questions.

Kuroo nods, and Daichi withdraws his hand to wrap it around Kuroo’s waist as he rolls them over to reach into the top drawer of the bedside table. When they roll back, Kuroo pops the button on his jeans and shimmies out of them before going for Daichi’s. Daichi smiles, his hands occupied with warming the bottle.

“You okay with staying on top?” Daichi asks. “I like seeing you like this.”

“You always did,” Kuroo replies.

A light blush dusts Daichi’s cheeks. “A man is allowed to have his vices.”

“Am I a vice, then?”

“You certainly don’t feel like a virtue.”

Kuroo laughs quietly and slides Daichi’s jeans down his legs. “Speaking of vices,” he murmurs, discarding the jeans over the side of the bed and running his hands over Daichi’s thighs. It’s hard, too, to keep his eyes off Daichi’s cock, which rests hard and shiny against his stomach. “Fuck, Sawamura. You’re gorgeous.”

Daichi swallows, his gaze trailing down Kuroo’s body. “Speak for yourself, babe. Come back here and let me appreciate you.”

Kuroo grins and straddles Daichi’s waist again. When he leans down to kiss him, their cocks rub together, setting off sparks of friction beneath his skin. His breath hitches, but Daichi doesn’t relent, pushing more insistently against his mouth. Distantly Kuroo hears the sound of the bottle being opened, but it doesn’t register until Daichi’s finger finds his hole and circles it slowly.

Kuroo has to break away to breathe now, and to whine softly. Daichi is apparently bent on teasing him, because he doesn’t push in for the long moments that Kuroo spends with his face buried in the crook of Daichi’s neck. “Please,” he whispers, broken and needy. 

Daichi whispers back a “shh,” bringing his free hand to the back of Kuroo’s head and petting his hair. A sweet, tense hush has fallen over the room, permeating down to Kuroo’s bones, and he’s almost afraid to break it. 

Almost—because when Daichi finally pushes his finger inside, Kuroo keens, loud and high. He bites down into Daichi’s shoulder as Daichi pushes further in.

“Fuck, baby, you’re so tight,” Daichi murmurs. 

“It’s been a while,” Kuroo admits. 

“You sure you’re gonna be able to take me?”

“Don’t threaten me with a good time.”

Daichi laughs and begins to fuck him, shallow at first as they both get used to it. Kuroo tries to relax, tries to distract himself from the tightness by pressing kisses across Daichi’s collarbone. Daichi hums in appreciation and fucks him deeper. Kuroo lets his eyes fall shut and moves his hips back, meeting each of Daichi’s thrusts.

“Patience,” Daichi chides, but it’s half-hearted because he’s already slipping a second finger in alongside his first.

Kuroo doesn’t answer, just moves his mouth down to Daichi’s nipple and sucks on it. Daichi moans, his hand faltering for half a second before he picks up the pace, scissoring and stretching. 

Kuroo is conflicted, because he wants to drag this out all night, wants Daichi over and over for as long as Daichi will give himself to him, wants to push them both to the edge so many times that by the time they finally do come, it’ll be the strongest it’s ever felt. If this is a one night thing, it should be the best goddamn night of their lives. 

On the other hand, he’s wanted Daichi for six years now, and he doesn’t think he can tear himself away, doesn’t think he can pace himself when Daichi’s hand still finds his prostate perfectly, when every one of his movements is practiced and effortless. He can’t slow down when every movement gets them one step closer to becoming one again, even if just for a little while. 

“Tetsurou,” Daichi murmurs. “You’re thinking again. I can see it in your face.”

“Ah—yeah,” Kuroo admits. “Sorry, it’s nothing to worry about.”

“If you even can think, I’m not doing my job right.” Daichi adds a third finger and seeks out his prostate again, rubbing all three fingers against it, and Kuroo shakes and falls down onto his elbows.

“I’m—I’m gonna come if you do that—” Kuroo gasps, already feeling it build in his gut, and Daichi backs off, goes back to stretching him out. “Fuck, Daichi, you’re doing amazing, I’m just—ah—”

He buries his face in Daichi’s chest, muffles a long moan against him. Daichi wraps an arm around his waist and holds him close as he fucks him, and the new angle has their cocks rubbing together again. There’s pre-come smeared on both their stomachs, easing the slide of their bodies against each other. Daichi finds his prostate, rubs at it once again, and Kuroo’s toes curl with how incredible it feels.

“Please,” he whispers, voice broken. “Please, Daichi, I need you.”

“You sure you’re ready?” Daichi asks. 

Kuroo nods against him. Daichi withdraws his fingers and lets go of his waist, and Kuroo manages to sit up so he can realign himself with Daichi’s cock. 

“Take your time, baby,” Daichi murmurs. “There’s no rush.”

Kuroo huffs and sinks down onto Daichi’s dick. It’s overwhelming immediately—Daichi is everywhere inside him, filling him up entirely. Even as he inches his way slowly down, the stretch is nearly more than he can take. Finally, his ass meets Daichi’s thighs, and they both let out a long breath.

“You forgot how big I am, didn’t you,” Daichi teases.

“I didn’t forget!” Kuroo says, pinching Daichi’s nipple. “I just haven’t had sex in a while.”

“Come here, baby,” Daichi urges, tugging him downward again. They kiss languidly, like they have nowhere else to be. Daichi’s fingers find his chest and rake down it, blunt nails catching against his skin. When he reaches Kuroo’s hips, he pulls away. “Tell me what you’re thinking about.”

Kuroo shakes his head. “I promise, it’s nothing.”

“It’s not nothing.” He runs his fingers through Kuroo’s hair. “If it’s enough to make your face look all scrunchy like that…”

Kuroo sighs. “Just thinking about whether I want this to go fast or drag out all night.”

Daichi’s hand pauses briefly before he continues. “Yeah. I get it.”

Kuroo meets his gaze for a moment, staring into clear brown eyes. This time he’s the one to bridge the gap between their mouths, taking Daichi’s lips with his own as he lifts his hips up and rolls them back down. Fuck, Daichi feels—incredible, still overwhelming but in a way that’s so much easier to take with their mouths moving against each other. Daichi slips one hand down to Kuroo’s hip, squeezes it tight and sets the pace for his movements. 

The drag of his cock against Kuroo’s insides sparks waves of pleasure rolling through him. He grasps Daichi’s face with both hands just for something to cling to, for something to keep him grounded. Daichi makes him go slowly at first, forcing his cock deep inside with each thrust. Kuroo’s breath hitches on a particularly deep slide, and he lifts his head enough for Daichi to bite at his throat. He leaves marks, marks that Kuroo’s going to have a hard time covering, but he can’t bring himself to care. 

Kuroo gets the feeling Daichi was originally leaning toward dragging out their pleasure, but as Kuroo slips closer and closer to completion, Daichi begins to lose his composure. He thrusts up into Kuroo, hard enough to have him seeing stars, fast enough to have him bouncing in his lap. Kuroo sits up and takes his own cock into his hand, trying to pace himself so that he’s stroking in time with Daichi fucking him. 

“Tetsurou,” Daichi groans. “Look at me, baby. I wanna—wanna see your face when you come.”

Kuroo moans, his fist flying over his cock, the edge getting closer and closer as he and Daichi stare into each other’s eyes—he has just enough of his brain left to think  _ please, don’t let this be the end _ before he’s coming. His release spurts over his hand and stomach. Daichi doesn’t slow down at all, doesn’t even begin to falter, and fuck, pain and pleasure mix together, he could take this all night, he thinks, if only it meant Daichi would stay—

Daichi’s movements falter, and he cries Kuroo’s name as he buries himself inside. He and Kuroo continue to stare at each other. Kuroo feels crazed, half out of his mind, half prepared to beg Daichi for more—but Daichi reaches up and cups his face, pulls him down gently to rest against his chest. His cock still twitches inside Kuroo, still pulsing with the pleasure of his orgasm. His breathing is still uneven, and Kuroo can hear the way his heart races with his ear against Daichi’s ribcage. It’s a comforting rhythm, especially as it begins to slow again. Daichi runs a hand over his back, strong and steady.

Kuroo isn’t at all aware that tears are falling from his eyes until he lifts his head and realizes Daichi’s chest is damp. “Fuck, sorry,” he mumbles, wiping at his face.

“It’s alright,” Daichi breathes. Kuroo looks up and sees there are tears on his face, too. “Don’t worry about it.”

Kuroo can’t help but lean down to kiss him. Their lips are swollen, bitten raw, but there’s no other way he’d want to leave this. If it’s going to be a one night thing, he’ll kiss Daichi over and over until the sun comes up.

“Let up, baby,” Daichi murmurs after a bit. “Let me pull out.”

Kuroo lifts off his softening dick and rolls to the side, collapsing with his head against the pillow. Daichi turns to face him, his hand coming to rest against Kuroo’s chest.

“Can’t believe I didn’t even suck on these,” Daichi laughs to himself, flicking a finger over Kuroo’s nipple. “I got so distracted I didn’t get the chance to find out if they’re more sensitive now or not.”

“Ah, they sort of are,” Kuroo admits. “It feels different, but like, good different.”

“Hm.” Daichi sighs. “Would it, ah. Is post-sex spooning involved in this deal? Because I could really go for some spooning.”

Kuroo laughs and rolls over so that his back is to Daichi’s chest. Daichi tugs him close, his chin resting on Kuroo’s shoulder, his breath tickling his ear. 

“I see you haven’t gotten any less cuddly over the years,” Kuroo observes.

“Honestly, I think I’m worse than I used to be,” Daichi says. “I had a girl complain about it once. Needless to say, no second date there.”

“Who the fuck complains about spooning?” Kuroo questions. “Especially after a good dick down.”

“That’s what I’m saying.”

Kuroo huffs and laces his fingers with Daichi’s. For a time, they lay in relative silence, the sounds of their breathing the only noise in the room. Kuroo can’t stop the racing thoughts in his mind and is glad he’s facing away from Daichi, because he knows he’d get called on it. Instead, he pulls Daichi’s hand close to his mouth, kisses each of the knuckles, then the inside of his wrist.

“You know,” he murmurs. “We said one night. We can definitely do more than one round in one night.”

He doesn’t miss the way Daichi’s dick twitches against him, but Daichi lets out a sigh. “We should talk, first.”

Kuroo’s gut twists. “That’s what I was afraid you’d say.”

He rolls onto his back so he and Daichi can look at each other. He’s surprised to find Daichi’s eyes are glistening again, and he reaches up automatically to wipe the tears away. 

“Daichi,” he murmurs, his thumb catching beneath Daichi’s eye.

“Ah, sorry,” he says, laughing in a way that sounds self-deprecating. “I was just thinking I don’t want this to be the last time we’re together.”

Kuroo sucks in a harsh breath at the confession. He chews on his bottom lip. “I don’t want that, either.”

Daichi smiles softly. “It’s not gonna be easy to start over. We still live halfway across the country from each other, and it’s gonna be even harder for us to find time together than it used to be.”

Kuroo nods, the words settling over his heart like ice. “I can take more games up near Miyagi,” he says.

“If you can get them, that would be good.”

“And worse comes to worse, I’ll just...quit and move to be with you,” he mumbles.

Daichi laughs and takes Kuroo’s face in his hands. “No need to rush, baby.”

“It doesn’t really feel like rushing when I’ve been waiting six years for this,” Kuroo admits. “But I see your point.”

Daichi hums. “Anyway, if either of us is moving, it makes a lot more sense for it to be me. I can fight fires anywhere, you know. Your fancy JVA job is a lot less mobile.”

Kuroo swallows hard. “Are we...are we really considering this?”

“I mean, I sure as hell am.” Daichi takes a deep breath. “Look, if you want me to fuck off, I will, but we just proved we’re still good together after all this time, and we’re adults now, and we’re better at talking things out than we used to be.”

“We did get through that whole conversation earlier without yelling at each other.” Kuroo purses his lips. “And of course I don’t want you to fuck off, idiot. I just got you back.”

Daichi leans up on one elbow and traces Kuroo’s jawline. “So.”

“So,” agrees Kuroo. “Would you, uh. Would you wanna go on a date sometime?”

Daichi smiles, bright enough that it warms Kuroo’s heart. “Yeah. I’d really like that.”

Kuroo wipes impatiently at the tears that prick at his eyes. Daichi brings their foreheads together, running his thumb over Kuroo’s cheek, and Kuroo huffs. “Kiss me, goddamnit.”

And so Daichi does.

**Author's Note:**

> [socials here](https://joshllyman.carrd.co)


End file.
